


Weltschmerz

by simeonsays



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Character Study, Existential Crisis, Gen, Satan reads Nietzsche. No elaboration needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24385291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simeonsays/pseuds/simeonsays
Summary: WeltschmerzGerman ｜ noun ｜ velts-shmĕrtsworld weariness—a satan character study.
Kudos: 6





	Weltschmerz

despite the hundreds of books lining upon my shelves, i oftentimes find myself wondering about the meaning of existence.

words upon words draw me down towards the tempting bed of flowers that drown me into a lawless world that nothing but the same pen can create.

yet.

what of odes and prayers of the gods we praise when we cannot ascertain they can even hear the cries nor wiles of our worship?

what of the knowledge and achievements when all things, all people will one day just fade away?

what of my life that is but a speck of dust to the whole universe?

i feel small.

egregious.

egoistic.

undeserving.

all these thoughts, questions, individualistic and selfish pursuits of meaning pervade even when all the answers are things no one in the world; merchant or peasant nor scholar or rook ages before my existence, could not and can never achieve. great men have lived before me. countless leaders that managed to change the way the world works for centuries. what's left of the records and scripts that surround me is enough proof of that. even stories strung and revised from the account of a maid who knew from a gardener that came across a weird old sage can hold even the tiniest truth from the roots of their telling. so, **what about me**?

i want a place for myself. a body and heart i can fully call my own. a name of my own unrelated to my progenitors' repute. an identity i can make show the world **i am me** ; confidently.

it's a sense of otherworldly privilege that allows me to understand not everyone would be as fortunate as i am in this situation. to block out thoughts by living in a universe weaved by hands and ink familiar and unknown. to smile as though i were a wife of stepford. to hide my rage underneath playful mischief under the pretense of satisfaction over my brother's life even the least more difficult. it's a blessing to even _live_.

to live...

to live...

to... **live**.

how can one live when they don't even have enough room to start breathing?

**Author's Note:**

> satan reminds me of myself a lot and i think that's part of why he was so fun to write. this is me giving pre-pact satan a hug. this is me hugging he


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